Today was Father’s Day, and I guess it doesn’t make much sense to post on this occasion, when you don’t have a dad in your life anymore.
But I thought I would write down and share a few words anyway.
Because my dad passed away, and it still is a tragedy today.
Nevertheless, I am thankful.

We only have one shot at life. And I believe it’s all about knowing that each time a door closes, another one opens. And that we should grab whatever chance we have of doing the things we want and need to do or say, the things we love, with the people we care for.

I am a strong, young woman living with depression, and to most, it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t match their definition or their idea of what this mental illness looks like as if the two were somehow incompatible. But they are or at least can be.

Waking up later than usual, strolling at the flower market on Columbia Road, letting the scent of a lavender bunch take me back to the south of France, making pancakes, watching a Harry Potter film wrapped in a warm blanket, and taking a purple bath… these are some of the things I like to do on a Sunday. And the list never ends…